Creep Street (18 page)

K, better be warned, this isn't going to be pretty. You can't see anything around that would break the glass, so you do the only other possible thing: you put your head down and run straight at the window. There's a huge crash and glass goes flying everywhere. Unfortunately you seem to have cut your head in the process because suddenly you realise that there's blood flowing like a waterfall down your face. It pours down your shirt in torrents, then your jeans as well, completely saturating all your clothes. Within moments there's a pool of it spreading across the floor. But nothing stops you. You wipe your eyes clear and grab the axe. You turn and run at Stacey's dad, waving the axe above your head. You leap on top of him and start hacking him up into little bits. Now his blood's flowing as freely as yours. Soon there's blood lapping at your ankles. It's all over the walls and the seats and the floor. It's even dripping from the roof. Everything's dripping red. When you've finished chopping him up you start on Stacey. Now you're up to your knees in blood. But you don't care! You're laughing like a maniac. Everything's red, as red as red can be. Ha ha ha! Blood blood blood! Beautiful glorious blood! The windows are covered in blood! The doors and the lights and the light switches and the pictures on the walls and the vase of red roses that used to be white . . . Blood blood blood blood! HA HA HA HA HAH . . . HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA . . . HAHA . . . HAAAAHAHAAAAAAAHA AAAAAAAAAA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BLOOD BLOOD . . . I LOVE IT BEAUTIFUL BLOOD HAHAHAHAHA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BLOOD . . . . . . . . . BLOOD . . . . I WANT MORE . . . . . . . MORE BLOOD . . . . . . . . . . . HAHAHAHHAHAHA HAHHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHA HAHAAHAHHAHAHA . . . . . . . .

 

PUBLISHER'S NOTE
: We apologise for this breakdown in the story. The author is receiving treatment. We hope he will be well enough to resume work in a few months.

His next three books will be
Noddy Meets Big Ears
,
Noddy Gets a Chainsaw
,
Big Ears Becomes No Ears
.

We're sure you'll enjoy them. Thank you.

o your amazement it actually works! And not just on the dogs. Sure they sit straight down and look at your mum patiently, as if they're waiting for their next orders. But behind you Stacey and her mum have skidded to a halt and are lowering themselves to the ground! Then you feel your own leg muscles quivering and you feel an overwhelming urge to sit down too. No doubt about it, your mother is one powerful woman! You try to fight the urge but you can't help yourself. Before you know it you're sitting down. ‘Beg,' your mother says to the dogs, and you and Stacey and her mum are up on haunches, whimpering, with your paws held out in front of you. So are the dogs. ‘Play dead,' is the next order, and you're all lying on the ground. Then: ‘Stay!' and off she goes, leaving you all there, too scared of her to move.

An hour later she comes back with a squad of police. Stacey, her mum and the dogs are taken into custody and marched away. You watch with relief. Safe at last. As they get put in the back of the police van one of the cops turns to you.

‘Gee,' he says, ‘with a mother like that, I bet you eat a lot of vegetables!'

ook,' you say, ‘if you really don't want to go ahead with this, I don't mind.'

‘Oh no,' she says, but not like she means it.

‘Well,' you say, ‘I was thinking, the fire's still going in the living room, and I know where Mum's got some marshmallows . . . if you wanted, maybe we could get warm in front of the fire and toast the marshmallows and swap a few stories . . .'

She suddenly brightens right up. ‘Sounds real good to me,' she says, turning and heading straight back towards the house. ‘There's only one condition though.'

‘What's that?'

‘We're not going to tell any ghost stories.'

ou make your decision. It's probably the smartest one you ever made. Without looking around, you bolt for home. You trip over rocks and logs and garden gnomes but nothing can stop you. You're a person with a mission, and the mission is the preservation of your life. At last, with bruised legs and panting chest and heaving lungs, you get back to the house. You race inside, lock and bolt the door behind you, pound up the stairs and into your bedroom, and disappear straight under the bed.

You're still there three weeks later. You don't dare come out. It's a strange new life that you're leading but you gradually get used to it. Your parents regularly bring your meals and a change of clothing. Every day they make new attempts to get you out, but so far you haven't felt any desire to emerge. Threats, bribes, counselling, guilt trips: none has worked. You like your dark little world where you feel secure and comfortable. You have your Walkman and some books to read and your Nintendo . . . what more do you need? You decide to stay there forever, happy and safe in your cave under the bed.

he clock strikes for the twelfth time. Stacey and you are hugging so tightly it'd take a micro-surgeon to separate you. You can't take your eyes off those graves. You just know something's about to happen. It's going to happen any moment now. Yes, here it comes: within seconds it will happen. You can feel the tension. You're a very psychic person, everyone always says that, and you know when psychic things are about to happen.

OK, so sometimes you get it wrong. Gradually you and Stacey release each other. You both feel a little stupid. You pat your hair down and smooth your shirt. ‘Well,' you say, ‘that was fun, wasn't it?'

‘Sure was,' Stacey agrees. ‘When I think I could have been home, doing something boring like watching a video or eating homemade jam donuts, or listening to my Fat Women CD . . .'

‘Fat Women?' you say joyfully. ‘Do you like the Fat Women? At my last school no-one liked them. It was terrible. I founded the fan club and I was the only member. This is fantastic! I can't believe you like the Fat Women.'

‘Well, I do,' she says.

‘OK,' you say, ‘let's go. Forget about standing out here getting cold and wet. Let's go break out the donuts and hit the play button!'